Safety Scissors
by Eurothrashed
Summary: A little Dawnifide moment for Lover's Walk. SPAWN COMPLETE


Title: Safety Scissors

Author: Eurothrashed

Feedback: Yes, please. E-mail in bio.

Disclaimer: So not mine...

Rating: Pg13

Summary: A little Dawnifide moment for _'Lover's Walk'_

Spoilers: Buffyverse up to _'Lover's Walk'_

A/N Just some fun... squicky fun, but fun none the less. And no, I don't promote underaged kissage with kids, just Dawn, 'cause I'm pervy that way.

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"Hey, cream puff," I hear the blonde dummy say. "How are things?" How does he think things are? I'm tied to a chair with a gag in my mouth - not fun. I can't wait for Buffy to show up and kick his undead butt. And she will, and I'll laugh. 'Cause, hey, that's what you do when your kidnaper gets their butt kicked by your Slayer sister. And ew. He smells bad, like beer or something icky like that. Doesn't he know that drinking kills brain cells? I bet if he knew he wouldn't drink so much. 

"Been good while I was out snagging the Slayer's groupies?" he asks, like all this is normal and he's dad having just gone out to get groceries... I don't like thinking that way. Maybe he can read minds. That'd be bad. Willow and Xander are not groceries.

"Yeah, knew you'd behave," he smiles at me, patting me on the head. Great he has to do the hair thing; last time it was his crazy girlfriend. At least he's not calling me _'dolly'_ and dressing me up in frilly pink dresses.

"Just gotta get Red to do a spell, and then you can scamper on home, yeah? How's that sound, food stuffs?" He glares at me; great, angry vampire. "Bet you have some beau waitin' on ya. A cute little snot that you share lunchies with? Am I right?" Spike sits down next to my chair, lightly tapping his beer bottle against my leg. "Wonder, would he still fancy you with broken legs?" Buffy better get here soon. I like my legs the way they are. Not broken.

He lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, "Dru used to love breaking little girls' legs..." Looking up at me, Spike wipes his eyes with a back of his hand. "Why'd she leave me? I mean, I'm a handsome enough bloke, right? Always treated her right, didn't I? S'all your fucked sister's fault. Should cut you up- -" he makes scissors motions with his fingers "- -leave little bits of you for her to find. Bloody little bits."

Watching him stand, I shrink back into my chair, trying to look as little and unimportant as I can. "That right, innit, my little bit?" he asks staggering on his feet. "Cut you into messes with safety scissors, and you'll scream, and scream, 'cause they'll be blunt and dull." Instead of finding those scissors he's talking about, the blonde wonder stalks toward me and yanks the gag off. "Can't have a proper conversation with you all trussed up," he grumbles breaking the ropes. He grabs me by the front of my shirt, and I shriek as he tosses me onto a pile of dirty clothes. "Stay put, girly," he warns, "I'll eat you up if you run, got me?"

"Yeah," I nod, "No running, gotcha."

"Smart girl," grabbing another bottle, Spike sits, more like collapses, down next to me. "Now talk," he orders. "If I remember right you love to prattle on about how Big sis'll stake me good. Go on," he gestures at me with his beer bottle. "Amuse me, how 'bout?"

"I don't think she'll stake you," I shrug.

"Oh?" he asks, "Why bloody not? M'not stake-able now, is that it? Not worth the red wood it takes to do the deed?"

"She'll kick your butt," I offer, "But if she was going to stake you, she would've already done it."

"I hate it when dinner starts makin' sense," he mutters. "Fine then," he sighs, "How would you kill me?"

"I wouldn't."

"Why not?!" he yells throwing his bottle to the floor and having it shatter. "I'm evil!" Grasping my shoulders, he shakes me, "Understand, Little Debbie? Eeee-villl? As in, kill you, your mum, and use your sister's bones to pick my teeth! Ring any sodding bells?"

"I like you," I say between shakes, he lets go like I've burnt him.

"Take that back," he hisses, "I'm a demon, little girls don't like demons."

"Racial aren't you?" I glare at him, and Spike for once, is speechless. "Just 'cause you're all-evil and overly wiggy doesn't mean you can't be liked. Maybe that's why you're crazy girlfriend left you, you have self-esteem issues."

"Do not," he defends.

"Do so." I cross my arms over my chest, he's got no sense of worth, the guy needs to deal already.

"Do not."

"You do so!"

"Do not!" he yells just as loud.

"Do- -" and then he's kissing me, like _'Gone with the Wind'_ kissing. And then his tongue's in my mouth... ew, he tastes nasty. But then it's not so bad, Melinda's wrong, frenching isn't gross, weird, but not gross. Oh, wow, my first kiss! I've gotta write this down!

Pulling away, Spike just looks at me, "Do not. So shut your gob," leaning back in, he kisses me again. I must look so dumb just sitting here my mouth open and eyes halfway shut. "Or open it, not picky." His lips are cold, and so are his fingers as they press into my scalp. I wonder if you can go to hell for kissing you're sister's arch-enemy-guy, yeah, a kissing bad-guys hell. But since he's evil he'll be in hell too, we could meet at some hell-store-place, maybe kiss some more if he wants to.

"Wish Dru had your kind of sense," he whispers his lips brushing mine with every word. "Wish I had a girl as sweet as you. So sweet." He's doing the hair thing, but I don't mind that much now.

"Gonna be a knock out when you're all grown up," he says, his voice dropping, he sounds sleepy. "Sweet little bit," he starts crying, and I'm not sure what to do. I'm never seen a boy cry before, I thought boys didn't cry, they say that boys don't cry. But Spike's not a boy, maybe it's okay that he cries. 'Cause when he cries he doesn't look girly. He just looks... hurt. So I do what mom does when I cry. I rub his shoulders and play with his hair, telling him that everything's gonna be okay.

"Sweet girl," he mumbles, "Wanna leave the 'Dale? You an' me? Could go to... um, well, you ever been to Spain?"

"No," I shake my head; he's drunk, no way am I ever touching beer if it can turn this really cool guy into a big crybaby.

"Good," he says, wrapping his arms around me, like I do Mr. Gordo when I don't feel good. "Spain it is."

He sleeps through Buffy and Angel saving us, they don't wake him up. Buffy gets all boast-y, but she doesn't dust him.

I told Spike she wouldn't.

END


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